The Kit Chronicles
by TheRedPenofDoom87
Summary: Sometimes sad, sometimes funny, and sometimes just plain fluffy oneshots that take place between chapters 7 and 8 of "Apothecaries' Daughter"
1. -4 weeks

Funny story, when I was working on chapters 7 and 8 for AD, I realized there was a lot of story that I was just not going to get to, considering the focus of AD was Rosalee (and sometimes Monroe) but basically it was their relationship.

This new venture is focusing on dealing with the aftermath of Chapter 7 "Small" and how we get to chapter 8 "Clockmaker's Daughter"

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Again, I are a grad student and I do this for lulz and feels.

* * *

- 4 Weeks

Rosalee's determined to keep it together. She is not going to let this tiny Seelengut baby get to her.

No matter how chubby his cheeks or how he wraps his entire tiny hand around her thumb, holding her captive to his baby charms. He smiles up at her with those little blue eyes that probably won't stay blue for long, and that small scar on her heart aches so much that it's suddenly impossible to breathe for a moment. Swallowing hard, Rosalee tries hard to ignore how warm he is and how it feels so natural to settle him on her hip.

She pats his tiny back, swinging from one foot to the other. He's quiet, but gurgling happily against her shoulder. "So, he's not sleeping through the night yet?" She asks the boy's mother.

"Nothing works," she says to Rosalee, exhaustion laced in every word. "I just can't get Mikey to stop crying when it's bedtime. I feel like I've forgotten everything since Lorna." She nods to the sullen teenager prowling through the shop.

The girl, who up until now has been weaving through the aisles peering at all the bottles and canisters, turns at the sound of her name. She straightens and instantly Rosalee's jealous of the girl's wild, but perfect ebony corkscrew curls. Sixteen, if a day, Lorna's all legs and elbows. But frowning and folded up in her black hoodie like this, she reminds Rosalee of a gothic stork.

Rosalee hands the boy back to his mother, her arms suddenly bereft of his form. "I think I can make up something real quick for him." She grabs the bottles from the different shelves, most without labels. She doesn't use droppers or measuring cups; her hands move with rosy memories of her own mother's careful guidance.

"How are you doing that?" the girl, Lorna wanders over and asks. She's pretty heavy handed with the black eyeliner. The black nail polish is a nice touch too.

Rosalee smiles "It was the first one my mother taught me." She pauses a moment, thinking about what she just blurted out loud. That same scar on her heart throbs harder

Lorna leans over a little farther as Rosalee tips the chamomile oil into the solution.

Rosalee sniffs back the lump in her throat. No time for that. She keeps her eyes on her hands and refuses to look at the infant again. She'll loose it for sure. "I make it a lot actually. It's good for headaches, muscle aches. Just generally soothing." She tosses in a fresh sprig of spearmint, secures the lid and shakes. She turns to Lorna and Mikey's mother. "Just rub a little in like lotion after a bath and it'll help relax him."

"And it's safe?" The mother asks, handing over a few bills.

"Its what my mother used to with my brother and me." Rosalee replies.

"That easy?" Lorna asks, astounded.

"That easy." Rosalee hands it over.

Lorna leans over the counter, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're an Apothecary, right?" When Rosalee nods, Lorna goes on, "Can you make a love potion?"

"Who for?"

Lorna glances over at her mother who's cooing over the baby and making for the door. "My mom and dad. He's my stepbrother," she says by way of explanation; the baby is infant pale but Lorna's a golden brown. "I get to be the black sheep of the family." Lorna growls. "Pun intended."

"Lorna!" Her mother calls.

"Just a second!" She screeches back in the sullen put-upon teenage way Rosalee instantly recognizes from her own memories. "I wanna ask her a question!"

Rosalee's heart goes out to the girl. "You know... I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

Lorna grins and leans her elbows on the counter.

"There really isn't such a thing as a love potion." Lorna stares at her as if Rosalee informed her that Santa Claus wasn't real. "You start messing around with people's emotions like that and it only causes problems. You can mimic love, but you can't create it in a bottle."

Lorna frowns, crestfallen. "It was a stupid question," she snaps more to herself.

"It's not stupid," Rosalee assures her. "It's not."

The girl deflates over the counter. "So, am I going to be stuck with him, then?"

Rosalee smiles as comfortingly as she can. "Looks like it. But," she grabs one of her business cards and hands it over to the girl. "If you need anything, short a love potion of course, call me. I'm always around."

* * *

She doesn't hear him come in; she's too absorbed in her wine and research and has been since she got home.

Switching from one book to the next, she makes notes to take with her to the shop tomorrow. There are recipes for gifts that could come in handy, some potions she'd never dream of attempting or even wanting to attempt and far too many images of death and destruction. Her constitution is hardier than most, considering her line of work and upbringing, but this is pushing it.

Thus the wine. If one's parents are apothecaries, a sheltered childhood is not something one is in possession of. She and Freddie had seen more than their share of shattered lives, broken bones and diseases that had no names by the time they were fifteen and twelve, respectively, than most wesen did their whole lives.

And yet...and yet. _It was the first one my mother taught me._ And it hadn't been the last. As always, her words come back to haunt her. She turns another page to take her mind off her heartache and, of course, there is a chapter on wesen children and how to spot them. She turns it over and pushes it as far from her as possible.

It isn't until the door closes behind him that she senses someone and woges out of surprise.

"Tough day?" Monroe asks, walking past but not before dropping a kiss on the top of her head as she woges back.

"No, no. Just..." she gestures to all the books that have migrated all over the kitchen table in the last hour. "Research. Nick lent me a few of his books so I figured I'd go through them. Juliette gave them to me when we met for Thai."

"Anything in particular you're looking for?" He pulls up a chair next to her, glancing at the pages.

"No, just browsing. Anything non-lethal." She turns another page to get past a rather horrendous and graphic Fuschbau beheading.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Why?"

He flips that dreaded book over to a chapter on baby wesen; he glances over at her, worry written all over his face.

Her shoulder slump. "Yeah, couldn't deal with that one. Especially after I had a Seelengult family come in today." She sighs, focusing only on the book before her. "The baby was maybe five or six months old. Mom needed something to help him sleep so I made up that ointment for headaches."

He closes his eyes for a moment. "Are you okay, really?" He reaches out and takes her hand. She sees the contained panic and the careful weighing of all her previous words.

She shrugs. "Some days are better than others." She's suddenly guilty about the last time, and how she said nothing to anyone. She wasn't one hundred percent, it had only been four months since the hospital and the doctor said it would take a while for things to get back to normal. Maybe. Maybe not. "And it was okay...until the kid's sister, Lorna, asked me how I made it without directions. And I said..." She feels the lump expanding in her throat. " 'It was the first one my mother taught me'...And then I thought... What if I have no one to teach?" She finally looks up at him, unsure.

"Oh, Rose," he sighs and puts his arm around her to draw her in. She rests her forehead against his shoulder to pull herself together. His arms come around her waist, fingers tracing the line of her spine.

"I'm fine." She sniffs hard and scrubs her hand across her eyes. Not that there are any tears but its more habit now. "I am. I'm fine." The more she tells herself that, the truer it'll be. Habit.

"No, you aren't," he disagrees quietly.

"It's been eight months. I'm fine." She insists and pulls away finally.

Monroe presses a hand to her cheek. "Don't you'd think I'd know it you weren't fine?"

She tries to smile up at him but can't seem to get her mouth to obey.

"I just hate to see you like this. When you were in the hospital..." he shakes his head. "There wasn't anything I could do. And I don't want to see you like that. Ever again."

She smiles sadly. "But now-what are we? We were going to be parents. I know it wasn't planned and I know we weren't ready. But I wanted it to be a girl. I wanted someone to teach." She admits finally, the words she's kept to herself all this long while.

His thumb moves across her cheekbone. "And we still might. I haven't given up yet, you know. There's no reason to rush this, I just don't want to see you like that again."

She nods slowly, considering.

"Besides, I didn't marry you because you were pregnant." He smiles. "I married you because you were too pretty to let go of. Couldn't let someone else snap you up if I could help it."

"So it's all about looks then?" She lets herself laugh. "That's all that matters to you?"

"Of course. Thought you already knew that." He kisses her forehead. "See, I obviously won. I got you and you got stuck with me."

"You are ridiculous," She slips out of her chair and settles herself on his knee. She reaches up and runs her fingers through the curls at the back of his neck. "Completely wrong, of course. You are kind," she kisses him once. "And stubborn," and again. "And an annoyingly early riser," And again. "And handsome. And I don't want anyone else." She lets out a little sigh. "Kids or not."

His arms tighten around her. "How about we go away next weekend, to the coast? Just you and me, no shop, no Nick. We never really got a chance last year."

She smiles for real this time before tightening her arms around his neck again. "I think you get to be the smarty-pants today." She murmurs before kissing him once more. But this time he meets her half way, lifting one hand from her waist to cup the back of her neck.

"So..." He gestures to the table. "Why don't you put the books away for tonight?"

* * *

The next morning, Rosalee's humming along as she mixes up a tea; blueberry, ginger and Earl Grey for a customer who'd be just around the corner when the bell above the shop door jangled. "It'll be just a minute," she calls out. "I'm almost finished."

"Hey..."

It's not who Rosalee's expecting.

Lorna, still in her black eyeliner, nail polish and hoodie, stands there.

"What's wrong?"

The girl rolls her eyes, another well-practiced gesture. "Nothing's wrong." She buries her hands in her hoodie pockets and stares at her feet. "I was just...in the neighborhood and...I was wondering if you were looking for any help?"

"Help?"

"You know, I could sweep up, dust ... Look, I'm graduating from high school in less than six months and I'm starting at Portland State in the fall and it'll be nice to have a job before I start..."

Rosalee smiles. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I skipped second grade." She replies in a flat tone as if she's told the story six thousand times.

"What are you going to Portland State for?"

Lorna shrugged. "History maybe. Art? I dunno. But..." She looks all over the store. "That stuff you made for my brother worked really well. Helped relax my Mom too. And I was wondering...if you could teach me?"

* * *

I'm actually really excited that you guys get to meet Lorna, she was there in my head when I wrote the last chapter "Watchmaker's Daughter" but there wasn't a place to introduce her. So she'll poke in and out through out this story

R&R!

See you on the other side of finals (i.e. like a week and a half)


	2. -3 days

In which Rosalee reminds us why she's a BAMF. No, really that's the basis of this bit.

I own nothing, I are a poor grad student who is now free for the summer! YAY

Enjoy!

* * *

-3 Days

It was supposed to be a quick, easy job; "supposed" being the keyword. She was supposed to go in, grab the kid and get out while Nick and Monroe drew them out. But Lord, Nick needs to learn to count.

The smell of the "J" drifts through the air, cloying and rancid as burnt sugar. She takes in a deep breath to settle her nerves and memories. She hadn't wanted to get dragged in again, but she made the choice to live in Portland, so this was inevitable, she supposed.

They were old friends, if that was the word, from her old circle before she'd gotten clean and moved to Seattle. Olivia, the girl who had originally introduced her to "J" and her not so respectable boyfriend appeared in the shop begging for help; her son had been kidnapped in exchange for what she owed for her and her boyfriend's habit. Apparently, after the kerfuffle with the Cracher-Mortel, word had gotten out about Rosalee's...well, for lack of a better word, relationship with the Grimm. And Olivia sprawled out across her counter, offering Rosalee everything but her first born, Quentin (really only because he had already been taken) in exchange for help.

"Rosalee..." She begged. "Please...there isn't anyone else I can go to."

Rosalee glanced up at Olivia, who was really still a girl with her dark eyeliner and too-tight clothes and who didn't look like a mother at all. "Is it because I'm the only one who is still around? Or because I'm the only one who has the connections to do anything?"

"Please, Rosalee. For old time's sake."

Rosalee glared at her but kept the woge in check.

"Fine," Olivia conceded. "If not for old time sake, than for Quentin."

Rosalee grips the end of a 2x4 and watches each step she takes as surprise is her best asset at the moment. The Coyotl, who's stalking his way around Quentin, checking the ties like he's got O.C.D is easily six inches taller, not to mention forty pounds he has on her.

And, of course, Quentin sees her and starts to fuss. The guy turns and the growl barely leaves his throat when she woges and smacks him across the face with the board. He goes down without another sound.

Tossing it aside, Rosalee goes to Quentin and rips at the rope until it frays and falls apart. She pulls the gag off him while he points behind her, wordless terror in his eyes.

She turns, but too late. His fist just barely connects with her cheekbone but that in and of it's self is enough to send her spinning. She barely hits the ground before she feels his hand wrapping around her arm to haul her back up. As best she can, she twists and elbows him as hard as she can in the nose. There's a small satisfactory pop and then the smell of fresh blood. She grabs Quentin and runs as fast as she can to where Hank is waiting with the car.

* * *

Quentin won't let her go. He clings to her neck as if she were his lifeline and she is, for all he knows. So, Rosalee settles him on her hip and walks back and forth across the precinct floor and repeats all the nursery rhymes she knows and quickly makes up a few that make no sense. Hank takes her statement as she paces and in between the half-real lullabies.

Rosalee tries to get Quentin to at least close his eyes. But he fights it with everything he's got. She runs her hand down his back like she remembers her mother used to do to calm her after traumatic days at school. That is until he literally cannot keep his eyes open anymore. Rosalee lets him rest in her lap as he finally drops off to sleep, besides she'd have to cut her sweater to get him to let go.

Hank's phone suddenly chimes and when Hank whistles appreciatively. "Damn, girl!" He laughs and holds it out for her to see her handiwork.

It's the man who was guarding Quentin; his right cheek is three times its normal size as well as his nose. Both eyes have already begun to blacken and swell, almost shut. In the body of the message: _Reminder to never make Rosalee mad. _

"I don't start fights," she replies quietly, running her fingers through the boy's hair. She looks up at Hank. "But I finish them."

"That you do," Hank compliments. "That you do."

She's leaning against the back of Nick's chair, Quentin still asleep against her chest, clutching an ice pack to her cheek with her free hand when Monroe and Nick finally appear. She, very carefully, stands, still clutching Quentin to her.

"You said she was fine!" He accuses Nick as he takes her face in his hands, checking her over.

"I am fine," she insists. "Perfectly fine. You saw the other guy."

He cracks a smile. "Yeah, I did. But you're sure?" He holds up four fingers. "How many?"

"Monroe-"

"Please for me?"

She rolls her eyes. "Four."

"Was that so hard?"

"No," She murmurs, leaning in close. "It wasn't."

"So," he turns around her. "This is the kid? This is what all the fuss was about"

Rosalee runs her hand down Quentin's back and smiles. "It is. He won't let go."

"Can't say I blame him."

"It's probably more to the fact that he's spent the last four days with Coyotls and I was the first Fuschbau he's seen other than his mother."

At that, Olivia bursts through the doors, tears making a ruin of her mascara, trailed by the boyfriend that Rosalee has not liked since the moment she saw him. She makes a beeline for Rosalee and Quentin and snatches her son out of Rosalee's arms. Quentin doesn't even make a peep. Olivia spouts "thank you's" in every direction including Rosalee's but Rosalee wants nothing more to do with her. She got the kid back and Nick was able to shut down the ring. Rosalee has long since closed the book on that chapter of her life.

Monroe squeezes her hand to lead her away. "Come on. He'll be okay."

* * *

It takes her a while to really wake up the next morning. She's drowsy, limbs heavy with sleep and strangely, happiness. His heartbeat provides such a soothing melody, she doesn't mind at all that he's awake first (he always is anyway). She's curled up in his arms and glad that the sun has decided to stay in as well.

"You're awake," he murmurs. "You want coffee?"

"In a minute, " she breathes, eyes sinking closed again. " 's Sunday. Don't have to be anywhere."

"No, we don't."

She lets out a sigh and buries her face against his neck, tightening her arm around him. "Just wanna lay here all day. With you."

"I have no objections to that." He threads his fingers through her hair. "How's your face?"

"Pretty."

"Always," he lets out a low chuckle. "But I was talking more about the bruise."

She lifts her head so he can see for himself. "How bad?"

"So, so. I've seen worse. It's all purple though."

"Nick needs to learn how to count." She retorts and runs her fingers over the bruise, wincing at the pain.

"I shouldn't have left you alone to deal with it," he replies. "I should have been there."

"You know," she's more awake now and props herself up onto her elbow to look at him properly. "You can't protect me from everything..." She murmurs. "There are going to be times like this where you won't be around."

He slips a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But I'd hate myself if something happened to you and I couldn't do anything to stop it...Like before." At the hospital is what he doesn't say. She remembers that all too well.

Rosalee runs her thumb over his hand. "What happened before...had nothing to do with you or me. It was a thing that happened. And it was terrible. And I think about it everyday." He looks like he wants to say something but she stops him. "Just like last night. I got hit but I'm alright. Besides that guy more than paid for it. But," she smiles at him. "You are always on my side. And that makes things easier."

He smiles. "I've never heard you so eloquent in the morning."

"Well, you're the one who wanted to talk," she replies and then frowns. "You really want to get the paper, don't you?"

"It's Sunday," he replies. "Crossword day."

She hoists herself up on her elbows. "You go get the paper and I'll make the coffee. But we're coming back here. And we are going to lounge all day."

He leans forward into a kiss. "Deal."

* * *

And there's one more down. The next one should be up within a week or so

R&R please!


	3. 13 weeks

And now it gets really good :)

Lots of good Lorna in this chapter, yay!

Disclaimer: I own nothing dudesbros

* * *

13 Weeks

Fifteen minutes seem to last an eternity. Rosalee paces because she can't figure out what else to do with her feet (she vehemently denies that she picked it up from Monroe). She wrings her hands to keep them from shaking.

She'd suspected it for a while. Six weeks actually but she said nothing for fear of jinxing herself, a concept she'd forgotten about until Lorna reminded her. And she was sure that last bout of vomiting was a dead give away. Thankfully, she'd eaten some questionable gyros at Lorna's favorite food cart earlier and blamed it away.

She shakes out her hands once more, torn between elation and terror. On the one hand, this is what they've wanted for year, especially after the last disappointment. She lays her hands flat on her stomach, trying to be objective. But she can't. She wants to believe that it's rounder than it was yesterday or the day before or last week when she had her head in the toilet and the idea really took root. She lets herself smile; she'll have someone to teach just like she wanted, not that she doesn't adore Lorna. Someone to perch on her hip and pull at her hair. Someone she can see herself in.

On the other hand, she'd been this far along before. They set up the room, made lists of everything else they needed. Rosalee perches her hands on her hips and makes another pass around the room, as if trying to out run the ever growing fear that she'll end up in the back of that ambulance again, feeling the blood-

Nope. She bites her lip hard. Nope. She's not going to go there. The past is past. Focus on now on this moment. She reaches for the pocket watch again. Still ten minutes to go. She holds in a howl of frustration and does another circuit.

"Boss?" Lorna pokes her head through the partially open door. "I'm gonna go ahead and head out. Need anything else?"

Rosalee shakes her head. "Go ahead. I'll see you tomorrow. And don't call me 'Boss.' It's weird. "

"What else am I supposed to call you?" Lorna comes all the way in.

"You can call me 'Rosalee' like everyone else does." She smiles and waves. "I'll see you tomorrow. At nine right?"

"You sure you want me to go? You're been acting...weird lately." She comes all the way in , shutting the door behind her. "What with the weird reaction to those gyros and the random headaches."

"It's nothing," Rosalee insists, tugging at her shirt.

Lorna cocks her head to one side as she catches sight of it sitting on the bathroom sink. She turns to Rosalee, eyes wide in her narrow face. "You want me to wait with you?"

"No," Rose protests instantly. "No, I'm fine. I, uh-"

Lorna unceremoniously plops herself down on the bed. "I've done it before. Waited with my friend Kylie in the bathroom at school."

As much as Lorna seeming cannot stand any sort of authority figures, sometimes (like now) her gruff demeanor melts away to reveal a genuinely kind girl. The first time Rosalee saw it was almost two months ago, when a testy Balam came in complaining of terrible sciatica that no prescription was able to help. The man in his late fifties, maybe early sixties, blustered and cursed and growled at Lorna who stood behind frozen behind the counter. Just as Rosalee was about to jump in, Lorna grabbed a cup of the tea she'd mixed herself (spearmint, raspberry leaf and lavender) and offered it to him. Right away, she went to work making him a liniment.

He watched, amazed as she poured from this bottle and that, chattering all the while. When she hands it over, he asks: "How...?"

Lorna shrugged. "Rosalee taught me. Will there be anything else?" And every time, it takes Rosalee by surprise.

Rosalee sits next to her. "How old is she?"

Lorna shrugs. "Sixteen. She's a junior."

"So, was she?"

"No." Lorna plays with the bracelet. "She was really scared so I distracted her." She smiles. "I'm really good at that."

"How did you distract her?"

"Oh you know... We talked about movies and music and boys." She frowns. "But I don't think that'd work because you're married." She taps her chin thoughtfully.

Rosalee grins. "What? Because I'm married I can't find other people attractive?"

"No, but you probably like old guys. Like George Clooney. And Harrison Ford. " She curls her lip at the name as if she can't bear to even picture them.

Rosalee laughs. "Oh? Really?"

Lorna does a whole body shiver. "Uh no. Gross!"

Rosalee falls back, laughing. "Oh God!"

Lorna lets her laugh for a few minutes until she asks the question: "Are you happy about it?

Rosalee straightens up.

"I mean I guess you are but you look sad." Lorna murmurs. "Or worried, I guess."

"Has anyone told you that you are uncommonly observant for a seventeen year old?" Rosalee smiles at her assistant.

Lorna rolled her eyes, her one-size fits all gesture. "Sometimes, I think grownups make things way more complicated than they need to be."

"They do. Sometimes." Rosalee confirms.

"Why?"

Rosalee shrugs. "I don't know."

"If it's worth anything... I think you'd be a good mom."

"How do you know that?" Rosalee murmurs, trying hard to keep the tears out of her voice.

"I can just tell," Lorna insists as if it were common fact. "I'm a kid. Trust me. I can tell."

Rosalee checks the pocket watch again and ducks her head a moment to wipe away the leaking tears. She sniffs. "Moment of truth." She holds up the watch.

* * *

Nick looks up from his fourth book of the afternoon at the sound of a car. "Did Rosalee say why she's stopping by?" He swishes the coffee around in his cup, already wishing for a second.

Monroe shakes his head. "No, it was totally out of the blue. Why?"

"She's here," Nick points over his shoulder through the little window. "And she seems to be in a hurry."

Monroe gets up and goes to meet her, hurrying more than he usually would.

From here, Nick sees Rosalee get out of the car, not even bothering to shut the door behind her. She trots up to him and grasps at Monroe's outstretched hands, talking fast and excited.

Slowly, a smile spreads across Monroe's face. His hands creep around her waist and she throws her arms around his neck, both laughing. Nick steps out to the door, smiling. "So, are congratulations in order?"

* * *

Just so you know the next one will probably be short like this one. But it'll have Nick/Juliette ness in it! YAY

oh and I signed up for Camp NaNoWriMo! YAY! So, I'm gonna try to finish this up in less than fifteen days so you won't have to wait a month :)

anyway R&R!


	4. 27 Weeks

Again this one is sort of short, but you get nosy Nick again! Yay! LOTS OF DIALOGUE!

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

27 Weeks

Juliette claps her hands and squeals in happiness. "Oh, a little girl! I'm so excited! Have you decided on any names yet?" Juliette passes the marionberry jam. The Cup and Saucer isn't fancy but the food is good and Juliette's had a serious craving for their pancakes in the last few weeks. Rosalee agreed wholeheartedly when Juliette called yesterday.

"That's all we've been talking about since we found out it was a girl." Rosalee replies as she slathers her biscuit. "We can't get through a single meal without arguing about the merits of one single name! Last night we spent an hour debating about the name Hannah. Just that one name!"

"So, are we pro Hannah or con Hannah?" Juliette holds her coffee cup up to the boy with the bull nose ring and gaged ears who pours.

Rosalee shrugs. "I'm pro and he's con."

"Don't name the kid Hannah." The server interjects quietly. "Had an ex-girlfriend named Hannah." He shakes his head sadly and returns to the kitchen.

Rosalee glances over at Juliette. "See?! How do parents do this?!"

Juliette shakes her head. "I don't envy you."

"Any suggestions?" Rosalee holds the tea mug in her hand, staring wistfully at the steam curling out of Juliette's coffee cup.

"No Shakespeare names. Juliet, Violet, Cordelia..."

"Personal experience?" Rosalee smirks.

"Every time we read Romeo and Juliet, guess who had to read Juliet's part?" Juliette points to herself. "And got teased and humiliated and its the reason I became a veterinarian. No English classes."

"Okay, no Shakespeare names. Anything else?"

"I plan on spending a lot of time with this kid, please don't name her after an object or food."

"Like?"

"Like Apple or Satchel."

"So Coffeecup is out, then?"

"Yes." Juliette glances around and her voice drops below the hum of the other patrons. "Do Wesen have traditions when it comes to names?"

"_We _don't. " She said emphasizing that she meant other fuschbau. "I don't know about some of the others. But lot of people in my immediate family are named after relatives or ancestors, Freddie and I included. But I think it's just because our parents wanted to name us after family members." She taps her finger against her chin in thought. "Our parents used to call us 'Kit.'"

"Name her that!"

Rosalee shakes her head. "Well, it's more a term of endearment than anything else. It would be like naming her 'Honey' or 'Sweetie.'"

"Okay, what does Monroe want to name her?"

Rosalee pressed a hand to her forehead. "Saskia. After his great great grandmother. Or Tulla, or Dorthea. Don't get me wrong, I love Monroe. He's so sweet and thoughtful and supportive. But..." she shakes her head. "I cannot name my daughter _any_ of those names. She's going to get teased! And if Lorna's taught me anything, it's that kids are even meaner now then when we went to school."

Juliette made a pained smile. "Yeah. No... " She shook her head. "Do you have any names that _you_ really want?"

Rosalee lays her hand on the swell of her stomach, which was becoming more and more prominent. Earlier, Rosalee claimed that people no longer hemmed and hawed over whether or not to ask if she was expecting, now just jumping to asking when the baby was due. "Lucille or Lucy after my grandmother." She smiles. "Nick, however, has put in his request."

"Oh, this I need to hear."

"He wants us to name her after him since he's responsible for us meeting in the first place."

Juliette laughs. "And that's out."

"Oh, yeah," Rosalee confirms. "We'd have to name her Nichole and there was a girl I went to high school named Nichole and I hated her." She stops and considers. "It was one of the few names we agreed on..." Rosalee huffs out a breath.

"Oh God! He bet me fifty dollars that you guys would pick his suggestion."

"I guess you're gonna win that."

Juliette grins...wickedly.

* * *

"Babe! Juliette! You home?!" Nick calls as he always does as he comes in.

"Up stairs!" She trots down the stairs, still in her work clothes. "Hey!" She hops down the last few steps and lands neatly in his arms.

"Hey back," he replies, smirking.

"So, how do you feel about ordering a pizza?" She looks down at herself. "I just got home and we have nothing but beer in the fridge and I don't feel like cooking..."

"Pizza a go-go?"

"Like you even have to ask!" She pushes him playfully away as he digs out his phone to order. He grabs her jean loophole and follows her into the kitchen.

"They'll be here in half an hour," he sets the phone down on the counter when he's finished.

"Have I told you that I love you today?" She wonders as she hands him a beer she opens for him.

Nick cocks his head to one side, trying to remember. "Maybe not?"

"I love you, Nick Burkheart." Juliette laughs and pulls him in for a kiss. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic." He agrees. "So, how was your day?"

"Operated on a German Shepard puppy who ate a sock," she listed off. "Animal cops dropped off a cat whose whiskered got burned off and was very tempted to take a little corgi puppy home. You?"

"Pretty quiet." He admitted. "Finished up some paperwork."

"No crazy Wesen today?"

Nick laughs. " Sorry, it' still really weird to hear you say Wesen."

She rolls her eyes. "I saw Rosalee today. We had breakfast."

"Oh? And how is she? How's the baby?" he takes a long pull.

"She's good. Baby too. We were talking about names."

He grins. "You remember our bet?"

"Of course. But I was thinking about changing the terms a little."

"You're not backing out are you?"

"Of course not. But let's just say instead of money, the loser has to do what ever the winner says. Illegal things are out of question, though."

"Thanks for that. So, how long?"

"That can be determined at the time the bet is collected. I was kind of hoping forever." She smiles at his bewilderment.

* * *

Again, sorry it's so short, but the next one-shot is going to so super duper fluffy cute, it'll more than make up for it :)

R&R please


	5. 30 Weeks

And here's the next one! but please see the note at the end!

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

* * *

30 Weeks

The melody isn't quite right but Monroe can't pinpoint why. Something is just off about it; the notes don't sing the way he imagined they would. He tries again and still the notes aren't falling in line. He draws the bow across the strings once more... lo and behold, he hears it. But only for a moment.

The lock on the front door turns and Rosalee comes bustling in. "Hey! I thought you were meeting Nick!"

"That's Thursday. Today's Tuesday, Rose," he calls back.

She sets down her bags and pokes her head into the living room. "Uh, these hormones are making me so forgetful. I started to pour black pepper into Lorna's relaxation tea. If looks could kill-Oh, sorry. I didn't know you were practicing."

"No, it's fine." He waves her over. "I wasn't getting very far anyway."

Rosalee slips off her shoes, sighing with relief. And then immediately, she braces her hands on her lower back. "Uh...God. Kit, baby, you gotta stop sometime." She says to her heavily protruding stomach. She looks up to see him watching her and walks closer, she's not waddling yet, but she's getting close. Bending over is pretty much out of the question now but she still doesn't always ask when she needs something up high. "Here, feel," she takes his free hand and presses it to her side.

Just for a moment, he feels a foot, a less than a quarter the size of his palm push against his hand. He smiles up at her, not sure where his words went. He remembers suddenly that night from what felt like a lifetime ago when they were standing outside his house and she told him that she picked him. And now here they are, less than two months from being parents of a newborn; the proof is pressing against his hand.

She leans against his shoulder. "_Your_ daughter has been kicking me all day, pretty much nonstop since four this morning." Exhaustion echoes through her words.

"So, she's my daughter when she's trouble? Is this going to carry over when she's actually here?" He puts his arm around her waist, steadying her.

Rosealee points to her stomach. "Uh, she's here now. And I have the bruises on the inside of my hipbones to prove it. And yes. It's going to continue." But she smiles. "What were you playing?"

Monroe shakes his head. "Nothing special. Just playing around with a few ideas I had. "

"I wanna hear." She insists. "You almost never play for me and you're really, really good."

"No, I play for fun. There's nothing much for you to hear."

"Please?" She pouts, laying her hands on her belly. "I've had a very long day and your daughter's been kicking me. You kind of owe me one."

"That is not fair," he insists as she wanders over to the couch and lies down, resting against the arm. "Not fair in the slightest. You are taking advantage of your position right now." He points the bow at her but all the while glad she's off her feet without his suggesting.

"I'm seven-and-change-months pregnant; of course, I'm taking advantage." She laughs from the couch. "There's going to be eighteen years worth of 'not fair' coming your way, you're going to have to get used to it." She closes her eyes.

"It really isn't very good, I promise." He holds the bow over the strings anyway, knowing full well that he'd never deny her anything now. Hell, he'd go chase down cow uteruses if that's what she wanted. But thank God the only thing she'd been craving was caffeine (which she herself cut out of her diet), everything peppermint (candy, tea, ice cream, chocolate) and lemons, of all things.

She waves her hand. "Quit stalling."

"They're your eardrums," he insists and starts. The notes fall from his fingers easier now. One section folds into the next without hitch. He's not one hundred percent sure where it's going but it turns out alright. Halfway through the cord progression, he hears her singing; nonsense words and half lullabies she knows. Her voice, when he can hear it, is sweet and soprano but a little thin. She's smiling, eyes still closed, not caring how she sounds. That is until he runs out of notes.

"Why'd you stop?" She wonders after a few second's worth of silence. "It was pretty."

"I hadn't thought that far ahead. It's sort of rough."

"No, it was beautiful. Like a lullaby." Her smile lights up the whole room. "She stopped kicking when you played. She was still for the first time all day."

He sets the cello aside and sits next to her, her shins pressed to his knee. "Really?" He leans over and holds hand over her belly. Every so often, he feels the baby shift but no kicks like before.

"Really. I always thought that was an old wives' tale; you know, playing classical music to babies before they're born. Guess it really works."

After a moment, he says: "You know we can't just keep calling her 'her.' She needs a name. "

Her eyes still closed. "Well, you want to name her Saskia. And I keep telling you that she's going to get teased and you won't believe me. Just talk to Lorna."

"What...what about Alva? It's Norwegian, I think. I had an Aunt or a cousin named Alva."

"Alva." Rosalee mused, her hand covering his. "Alva...Alva...Lucille. What do you think?"

"I like it," he agrees. "It's got a nice ring to it."

Her eyes open again. "Do you wish it had been a boy?" She wonders. "I know you're over the moon about her. But I was just curious."

He hadn't considered it really. It'd all happened so fast, especially since she kept it to herself for so long. So far, he'd been too busy making sure she didn't over do it; doing all the heavy lifting and insisting that she sit and be still for a while. That or he'd been wondering which one of them it would take over. It seemed sort of a trivial thing to worry over or have a preference for; boy or girl. While it was all they'd hoped for, at the same time, they'd become sure that this one..._Alva_ would be their only. "As long as you're her mother, the rest doesn't matter."

Rosalee grins and pulls herself up (with his help) to lean against him. She pulls his arm around her and rests her chin on his shoulder. "I'm having one of those moments where I'm so happy that thinking about what would have happened if I had gone back to Seattle breaks my heart," she murmurs to him.

He turns to look down at her, runs his fingers up her arm. "I guess I haven't told you lately that I'm really glad you didn't."

"When did you know?" She asks. "About me?"

He pauses a moment, thinking back. And he remembers her face, her smile almost as broad as it is now. Her arms outstretched for him. "When you got off the bus. And you were smiling..."

She rolls her eyes. "Like a moron, I'm sure."

He shakes his head. "No. Beautiful." He insists.

Rose burrows her face against his shoulder. "I'm enjoying this."

"Compliments?"

"The quiet. It's not going to quiet much longer." She rests her hand on her protruding stomach.

* * *

A/N: So, like I said, I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year and it's starting in two days, so this is going to be put on hold until August sadly.

Good news I know what I want to do for the next few ones and they're going to be awesome!

so, see you on the other side and

R&R!


	6. 32 Weeks

**So, I'm back a little early. I sadly did not finish my NaNoWriMo challenge. I got to about 25,000 words and hated every single word I'd written. But I do not want to go into it deeper. If you wanna talk, PM me.**

**Anywhoooooooo, I was working on this (and it's pretty long) and deemed it ready. However, I had to play around with the whole bit of Alva being born early and the complications that would arise from that. and there are a ton of them, but I figured the fact that she's a Wesen (and yes I have chosen which one she's going to be, but you're not going to see it yet :) things are a little different. so that's my random little rabbit trail. **

**I own nothing dudebros.**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

32.5 Weeks

Three AM rolls around and, of course, Nick answers his chirping phone. "Burkhardt." He mutters into it, eyes still closed. Juliette curls up against his back, shutting her eyes and waiting for him to kiss her temple and slip out of bed.

Instead, he jolts up. "What?! Wait-Monroe!"

Juliette sits up beside him, running her fingers through her hair. "What is it? Nick, what's wrong?"

"No...No. Monroe, we'll be there. Don't worry." He clicks it off and turns to her. "They're at the hospital, the emergency room."

"What? What's wrong? Did she go into labor early?"

Nick shakes his head, running his hand over his forehead. "She was feeling ...weird. Off. And he was going on about about her swollen ankles and she was worried. And then he freaked out. So, they went and the doctor took blood and said she might have something called preeclampsia...But then...he freaked out again and I couldn't catch anything he was saying-"

Juliette is already up and grabbing for a sweater and jeans. "We've gotta go now!" She finds a handful of clothes for him and throws them at him.

He pulls them off his face. "What does that mean? What's going on?"

"It means her blood pressure is really high and she's at risk for a seizure. If that's what is going on, they're gonna have to have to either induce her or do a C-Section. She's got to be absolutely terrified."

Booking it to Emmanuel, they find Monroe pacing across the waiting room practically tearing his hair out from the limited information and separation while they prepped Rosalee for surgery.

"So, we wait then?" Nick settles himself the best he could in the uncomfortable chairs.

"You guys don't have to-"  
Juliette lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Of course, we're going to wait with you. You two would do the same for us. Besides, from what you've told us, Rosalee figured it out really early and they're both going to be fine. So, we're just going to wait for them to tell us so."

"You're not going to try to stop me from pacing, are you?" he asks, more of Nick than her.

"Pace away." She curls up next to Nick.

"Damn," Nick murmurs as Monroe takes another lap. "I was gonna get the kid something on the day she was born. You know like a welcome-to-the-world-gift."

"Aw...you're such a softie."

"This also means we're going to figure out who wins the bet a full month and a half earlier than we planned. " He settles one hand on her knee.

"Trying to weasel your way out while you can, Burkheardt?"

He throws his other arm around her shoulders. "I'm a man of honor, Silverton. I would never go back on my word."

"Good." She kisses him once and they settle in for the wait.

They make a game of counting how many times Monroe passes them, assigning him similar presents like in the Twelve Days of Christmas song, though all of them are baby-related. "Five golden rings," Juliette sings softly to Nick who dozed off around the time they hit fifteen. "Four baby blankets, three change of oneies, two stuffed fuchsbau and a baby blutbau..." It's just as well; they've run of things for Monroe to buy for his daughter. Just as Juliette is about to drift off as well when she spies a doctor that appears from seemingly nowhere. "Nick...Nick, wake up."

He starts with a jump and wipes his hand across his face. "Yeah! ?! What's happening?" He pulls back his sleeve to find his watch. "It's..." he shows it to her. "Juliette...What time is it? I can't tell."

She cocks her head to one side. "I think it says five. I have no idea how right I am." She points to Monroe who's heading over to them.

"So, what's the news, man?" Nick pulls himself up.

Monroe looked between the two of them, a wild smile lighting up his face. "Guys, I have a kid...a daughter."

Juliette leaps up and hugs him. "How's Rosalee? Can we see her?"

"She's still out for a while. But we can go see the baby now, if you want."

"What's her name?" Nick asks as they follow behind him.

"Alva Lucille."

Juliette glances behind Monroe and mouths "I win" to Nick while Monroe goes on and on about his daughter.

She's tiny. Tinier than Juliette expects. And red. Juliette'd seen her share of premee babies, of the cat or dog varieties though. At only three and a half pounds, Alva fits neatly in Monroe's cupped palms. But this is different.

Alva, hooked up to a breathing cannula, lay in the incubator watching her. The little yellow beanie ("I don't want my daughter to conform to gender stereotypes" Monroe insisted) hid most of her dark hair, not that there was much to hide. "Hi baby," Juliette coos as she reaches in to caresses the baby's tiny first. Reflexively, Alva's fingers unwind and grip hold as best they can to Juliette 's thumb. "Hello beautiful girl." Her dark eyes lock on to Juliette's face, as if trying to distinguish what this new thing is, if she remembers the voice from before. "Aren't you glad you aren't named Nick?" She asks the newborn with a smile.

Nick slaps Monroe on the back. "She's beautiful, man. She really is." Nick stands on the other side of the incubator.

"How long does she have to stay in here?" Juliette asks.

Monroe shrugs. "Couple of days, a week, maybe. Just until she puts on a little more weight. But other than that...they say she's pretty healthy."

"She's eight weeks early...how is this possible?" Juliette whispers, careful to keep her voice low. "She's should be hooked up to way more tubes and..."

"We're thinking it might be something to do with...you know...our alter egos. Things like this are...different for us. Especially her."

A nurse in bright yellow scrubs appears and Monroe has to stoop to talk quietly to her.

Nick wraps his arms around Juliette as they smile down at the girl. "So, it looks like you won the bet."

Juliette smiles. "It does, indeed."

"Am I going to have to clean the bathroom for the rest of my life or what?" He asks, kissing her cheek. "Mowing the lawn is my forever chore? Just don't make me cook because then we'll both starve."

She brushes the baby's grip and then looks back up at Nick. She reaches up and cups his cheek. "Well, I was hoping you'd do those things anyway. Except for the cooking, of course. The thing is; I love you, Nicholas Burkhardt and I was hoping that you would spend the rest of your life with me. That's what I want to collect for my winnings."

Nick stares at her. "Wait...wait...did you just propose to me? By winning a bet?"

She shrugs. "Yeah. I mean, I said no last time, so I figured it was only fair for me to ask this time. So, whatda'ya say?"

Nick's mouth hangs open for a moment. And just as he's about to say something, Monroe reappears. "Guys, Rose's waking up, if you want to come see her."

"No," Juliette murmured. "No, we should let you guys be together. We can come back later. Tomorrow even."

"Yeah, tomorrow," Nick echoes, stunned and unable to put many words together. "Let Rosalee know that we're gonna swing by to see her."

* * *

Rosalee doesn't remember much. The anthesia has jumbled her memory to a howling cacophony of lights and sounds. Her chest and limbs are heavy, like they've been pumping her full of lead, instead of drugs. And she aches everywhere. Like before. The smell of bleach and cleaner rises up and nearly chokes her.

She claws her way out of the darkness as fast as she can. Anything to distance herself from the terror. From the memory of waking up in such a similar setting.

A large warm hand envelopes both of hers. Just like he promised. She opens her eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. He's sitting on the edge of her bed, waiting for he to wake up. She'd been in near hysterics before they sedated her, gripping his hand and trying not to cry. "I'll be right here." He'd promised. "I'll be right here when you wake up, I promise."

"What if there's something wrong with her? It's too early...what if...what if-"

"Then we'll find a way to make it work." He promised.

"You're awake." He murmurs, the hand moves up to her cheek. "How do you feel?"

"Sort of terrible..." she croaks and tries to sit up. But her limbs don't want to respond to her commands they way they should. She gives up and falls back against the bed. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's fine," he promises. "She's tiny. But she's okay. The doctors are so confused as to why she's so healthy and so small."

"I want to see her." She demands as forcefully as she can, which is to say not very forceful at all. "Please, after all of that." After all disappointment and the terror last time. She needs to know that this is different. She hits the button on the side of the bed to lift herself to a sitting position.

He leans over the side of the bed and brings up a small bundle. He lays their daughter, wrapped in the yellow blanket, in Rose's outstretched arms, careful of the oxeygen tube the doctors added. "She's so tiny," she murmurs, afraid to raise her voice above a whisper. She reaches in and runs the pad of her finger over the infant's forehead and down to her nose, marveling at her soft skin and new baby smell that Rose thought was just a myth. She stops at the cannula under her daughter's nose. "Is she okay?"

He takes a deep breath before continuing, like he practiced this speech many times. "She's eight weeks early and everything is perfect except for her lungs. They're still figuring out to work. The doctors are stumped, though." He smiles. "She's already doing better."

Rosalee sighs. "Does she have to be in an incubator?"

"For a bit. They say maybe a week. Just until she puts on a bit more weight."

"Did you already count her fingers and toes?"

"Twice." He replies, hand still beneath Alva's back, just in case. "Ten each." He settles next to her, one arm around her, one under Alva.

Alva's finger uncurls and latches onto Rose's finger in her sleep. Rosalee smiles up at him. "If I could freeze time right now, I would."

"Even though you feel terrible."

"It'd be worth it." She sniffs, looking down at her daughter. "We've been waiting for you for a very long time." She whispers to Alva, who's fast asleep. "A very long time."

"You should get some sleep too." He kisses her temple. She settles into him, a second nature that she can't remember when it took place. She doesn't mind though, her limbs are not as steady as she'd like them to be.

"So should you." She insists. "What time is it?"

"Five or six? Not sure."

"You haven't slept?"

"Of course, I haven't. I've been out of my mind since they wheeled you away."

"Oh, Monroe," she says in her weary way. "You have to sleep too, you know."

The nurse in bright yellow scrubs returns and lifts Alva carefully out of Rose's arms and whisks her away to the nursery, promising they can come visit whenever they want. Rose watches her until she can't see a speck of yellow anymore and collapses backward. Monroe settles himself on the chair beside the bed, the best he can when she taps him. "What are you doing?"

"Attempting to sleep."

"Come 're," she scoots to one side, making room on the bed. Without another word, he lays down beside her. "Have you called anyone?" She turns to her side, pillowing her head on his arms.

"I texted Lorna, like you wanted. But I think she's still asleep."

"What about Nick and Juliette?

"They came already and waited with me while you were under. And they saw her. I could see that Nick was thinking about buying an entire toy story for her."

"Good. He'll beat you to it then." She closes her eyes briefly. "Did you tell them her name?"

"Yeah...and then they were all squirrelly about it. Wonder what's that about."

"They made a bet over what we'd name her."

"They made a met over our daughter? Seriously?"

She laughs. "But Juliette knew we weren't going to name her after Nick. She might have fixed it."

"Fixed it? How?"

She taps her lower lip. "How do I put this? 'She's gonna put a ring on it.'" She points to the bare and slightly swollen forth finger on her right hand. They removed all her jewelry before the surgery and kept it with her pocket watch in the bedside table.

"How did you know?"

"She had the same look on her face that you did when you asked me." She grins and leans into a kiss before closing her eyes. "Besides she knew she was going to win, it's a pretty sure thing."

* * *

**The next one is going to be super fun!**

**R&R please! **


	7. 1 month,25 days- 3 years,6 months,9 days

So, I had a bunch of ideas for these chapters but they were too short to do an entire chapter, so I put them all together.

ENJOY

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all.

* * *

1 month, 25 days.

Kit, as they find themselves calling her (though it was as natural as breathing for Rose), stays with Monroe in the mornings and spends the afternoons with Rose. Her first morning back at the shop, Rose has to restrain herself from calling every ten minutes. Or that's what she tells him. He knows it was really five. Lorna confirms it and then makes him promise to text pictures of Kit every hour on the hour so Rose can concentrate.

Rose's mother comes to visit when Alva's a month old, much closer to her original due date. Her and Monroe have set aside their differences a long time ago. Her mother had not been a fan in the beginning, that is until she saw them. She took him aside. "I have to apologize." She began.

"It's fine. Trust me, you're not the first to voice your...disappointment about us."

She smiled, and he finally saw where Rose got it from. "I haven't seen my daughter this happy in a very long time. I would tell you to take care of her, but," she shrugged. "I don't think you need any encouragement from me."

After that, she tells him stories about Rose and her brother that he's sure Rose would never want him to know. She adores Alva right away, the only grandchild she's going to get.

When Rose gets home and hands her daughter off to her mother, she asks: "What did you two do today?"

They glance at one another, smile, shrug and then hem and haw until Rose drops it, or Alva distracts them all waving her tiny fists around.

His parents come to visit too, though with a nice break after Rose's mother. Ever the optimist, Rose tries not to take every comment about how tiny Alva is as a personal affront. But eventually Alva wins them both over; it just takes a little longer.

3 months, 12 days.

As Alva's wailing rises to a fevered pitch, Rose cringes and she gropes for her pocket watch on the bedside table. She lets out a low groan at the time.

He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder; he's already up. "It's fine. I got her. Go back to sleep."

She turns over to face him. "This is your fault, you know."

"How do figure that?" he wonders as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

"You get up so early all the time," Rose mumbles. "You passed it on to her." She closed her eyes tight as the wailing. "All your fault..."

"I would say I'd work on it, but I suppose the damage is done." He smiles at her.

She leans over for a kiss and almost doesn't make it. He has to slip one hand under her chin to help guide her. He smiles and lets her down where she promptly rolls over and immediately goes back to sleep.

He goes in to Alva's room, to find her squalling. "What are you screaming for, Kit?" He reaches into pick her up. He settles her against his chest and she stops, almost immediately. He looks down to see a little smile, her first, playing across her face.

7 months, 27 days.

Alva sits on the floor, running her blocks every which way as they finish the last of the wine.

"So, no words yet?" Juliette asks, running her hand over Alva's dark hair. She reaches up and grabs at Juliette's fingers. Juliette smiles.

"She makes sounds. Like growls. But no real words." Monroe says.

"Wonder where she learned that from," Nick quips.

Alva looks up at the sound of his voice, confused.

"Funny, dude." Monroe murmurs.

She hauls herself forward into a half crawl, half dragging motion until she gets to Nick, who's ducked down to grab her. He settles her on his lap. "Kit, what's her name?" He points to Juliette, who waves.

Alva frowns and looks across the table to Monroe. She turns back to Nick and in a small, confident voice declares: "Grimm."

Rosalee cracks up and nearly spits her wine out. And Monroe stares at his daughter. "Really? Really? Of all the things to say first? That's what you say?"

Alva claps and laughs, clearly proud of herself. Nick kisses the back of her head. "See, I knew I was your favorite."

12 Months, 1 Day

She spends her first birthday in the hospital, hooked up a breathing machine that's bigger than her whole head. It starts off with a cough and a fever. But no matter how long they pace in the steamy bathroom, it won't let up. back. Rose and Lorna try every alternative measure they can. Alva spends her nights coughing and then wheezing so much, he keeps a hand on her back to make sure she's still breathing. Then one day her fever won't break and the coughing sounds as though her lungs are trying to crawl their way out of her body.

He and Rose survive on coffee and day old muffins until Lorna brings them tea and tells them go get fresh air while she sits with Alva for a while. The worst part though is seeing her simply lie there; too exhausted, too congested to even smile when they come He can't do anything but hold his daughter's hand and read her stories; doing the voices just the way she likes.

She may grow out of it, but either way they get an inhaler for her and carry it like a talisman just in case.

3 years, 6 months, 7 days

She's almost as early of a riser as him but he'd hoped not today. He thought he was being quiet but at 4:15, as he's pouring coffee into his travel mug, he hears the unmistakable patter of tiny feet on the stairs. Her wild bedhead pokes its way into the kitchen. "Papa?"

"Kit, what are you doing up?" He scoops her up.

She rubs a sleepy and slightly uncoordinated fist over her eyes. "What are _you_ doing?"

"I have to go to Seattle for a few days. Remember? We talked about this. You and Mama are going to take the train up on Friday."

She shakes her head. "No. I wanna go with you now."

He smiles. "Sorry, Kit. But you can't. I have to work."

Her lower lip wobbles. "No."

He carries her to their bedroom all the while Kit is gripping his shirt collar, repeating her favorite word "no" under her breath. Rose sits up at the sudden sound of the door opening. She runs a hand through her hair that's come loose while she slept; like mother, like daughter he thinks to himself. She blinks a few times before she realizes what is going on. "Kit, what are you doing up so early?"

She only buries her face in his neck.

"She wants to come with me," he says, sitting down on the side of the bed.

Rose reaches for her daughter. He plops her down. "Kit, honey, we're gonna have fun, remember? We're going to have pizza with real cheese tonight and then on Friday, we're going to get on the train to go see Papa."

"Hey, soy cheese is just as good as-"

Alva looks up at him with the most disdainful frown. He almost tells her how much she looks like her mother but thinks better of it. "No, Papa, it isn't,"

Rose laughs and kisses Alva's temple, pulling her close. "How about we sleep a little more, and then go see Lorna? Hmm?"

Alva nods miserably and falls against Rose.

"I gotta hit the road." He leans down to kiss Rose.

"Okay," she sighs. "Call me when you get there?"

"I will." He promises with another kiss. She presses her free hand to his cheek, holding him there a minute or two longer. He pulls back and smiles before dipping down to kiss the top of Alva's head. He half-expects her to fling herself on him but he realizes she's already fallen back asleep in Rose's arms. "I'll see you soon." It's better than goodbye.

"See you soon." She murmurs back and lays back down.

It occurs to him as the bug turns over and the engine roars in the relative quiet of the neighborhood, this is the first time he's been away from either of them.

3 years 6 months, 9 days.

He paces the train platform, keeping tabs on his watch. It's late. By ten minutes. He keeps right on pacing. Logically, he knows it won't make the train arrive any faster. But it gives him something to think about other than how much he misses his family.

It's lonely; he's realized, without them. Rose isn't there to ask how his day was or smile or kiss. Alva's not there to babble, to try new words or show off her crayon drawings which are starting show some promise beyond blobs and scratches.

Finally, the train pulls into the station. Passengers disembark and flow every which way. And then...

"Papa!" A voice screeches and the crowd parts for. His daughter's familiar shape appears and instinctively he leans down to catch her.

"Hey, Kit." Her tiny arms lock around his neck as he lifts her up. "I missed you. Where's your Mama?"

She lifts her head and glances around, confused and then points. "There."

Rose appears, lugging her bag behind her. "Hey stranger." She quips as he pulls her in close.

Later, after Rose shows them her old stomping grounds, her old apartment and dinner with some old friends, they're lying in the hotel bed. Alva's long since fallen asleep but refuses to let Monroe out of her sight. She's curled up on his other side under his arm.

"We missed you," Rose says quietly. "She hates it when I read stories."

"That's because you don't do the voices right." He insists, kissing her forehead.

She laughs and tightens her arm around him.

"It was weird coming back to the hotel room...and you weren't here." His fingers thread in her hair.

"It's the first time we've been apart since before Kit was born." She smiles against his neck. "Hopefully the last time. Because she was not a fan of you being gone."

"Well, we both know you don't do the voices so..."

"She asked me three times a day if it was Friday yet and where were you and when could we get on the train to come see you."

"So, she's fond of me then." He nods. "Good to know."

"She loves you. So, do I, for that matter. " She murmurs, eyes closing.

It wasn't Portland. It wasn't home, he thinks to himself but Rose and Alva are there with him so it was close enough.

* * *

BTW,

We've only got one more chapter to go!

R&R please!


	8. 17 Years, 6 Months 4 days

We're doing a big time leap kiddos!

I wanted to see what Kit was like when she was actually grown up, or sort of grown up. I liked college bound Kit and I liked what came out.

PS. I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT! See the note at the end for more details!

Disclaimer: I own nada dudes. Nada

* * *

17 Years, 6 months, 24 days or To Sit on Baby Grimms

Alva half hangs off her bed, the letter between her hands. She smiles reading the words: "Dear Ms. Alva L. Monroe, We are please to inform you that you have been accepted to the NYU School of Arts and Sciences into the Anthropology program..." again and again and again. She clutches it to her chest as she turns upside down and stares at her ceiling.

In a few short months, she'll be on a plane to New York. Live on the opposite coast from everything she knows. Though, she's unsure if it's enough distance from Samuel; though, her father will be ecstatic about the distance once she tells him. As the other acceptance letters rolled in, more and more of her friends staked their claims at OSU and U of O and PSU and University of California, Alva kept quiet and waited for the (big) envelope from NYU, praying and hoping the whole time.

Her gaze drifts to her alarm clock next to her bed. Swallowing down her swear, "MoOOOM!" Alva howls from her bedroom. "I have to go in a few minutes if I want to get there on time! Can I take the bug!?" She throws her wallet containing ten dollars cash, a frequent customer card from Extracto and her newly acquired Driver's License in her bag and pulls on her boots before taking the stairs from her bedroom two at a time.

"Ask your father," Her mother relies as she steps into the bathroom. "He has the keys."

Alva hangs on the doorframe. "He's going to say 'no'. And I'm a good driver. The Driver's Ed teacher told me so."

She can see her mother smile in the mirror's reflection. "I know, Kit. And he's not going to say no. Go ask."

Alva lingers. "You look pretty," she says finally. "Like super pretty."

Her mother turns, her hand unconsciously smoothing down the waist in her black dress. "You think?" She twists around, showing off the shoes, which they found on their last shopping trip. Alva had almost spilled the beans then and there to start buying stuff for her dorm room but she kept her mouth shut, waiting for the right moment.

"Yeah." Alva grins.

"If you're trying to butter me up to ask your father; it's not going to work. You forget who's the Fuschbau in this house." She shoos her daughter away affectionately. "Go on."

Alva dips down to kiss her mother's cheek. At five eleven and a half, Alva is always the one to stoop, with her friends and even with Samuel. But what she wouldn't give to be petite and auburn haired like her mother. "I love you. See you later."

"Hey, do you have your inhaler?!" her mother calls after her.

"MOM! I haven't used it in forever!" Alva gripes.

"Forever was six months ago and we had to take you to the hospital." Her mother insisted, sticking her head out the door.

"Yeah, but I haven't had bronchitis in three years!"

She rolls her eyes at her daughter as she starts yelling for her father.

"Dad!? Dad!"

"I thought you left already," he appears from the kitchen.

"Daddy? Can I borrow the bug? Please?"

He sighs. "I don't understand why. I'm surprised that thing has survived as long as it has."

"Come on. I can handle it." She wheedles.

He huffs out a breath and hands the keys over. "Go easy on it, okay Kit?" He dangles the keys in front of her. "Okay?"

"Okay." She grabs at them. "Thank you, Daddy!" He's the only person she has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss.

"And no boys!" He calls to her as she hits the front door.

"No boys!" She agrees as she shuts the door behind her.

"Did you just shout 'No boys' at her?" Rosalee asks, coming out of the bathroom. "Again?"

Monroe shrugs. "She's not eighteen yet, she's got to at least listen for a few more months."

"And that's what you want to tell her?"

He shrugs. "What else would I tell her?" He looks her up and down. "You do look amazing, by the way."

Rose smiles. "You know when she goes away to college, you won't be there to shout 'No boys' at her when she goes out for the night."

"Not unless she stays here."

She leans on his shoulder. "You know she's not going to stay, Monroe."

He turns to her. "I don't understand how you've always been so...hands off."

"The trickiest part was actually getting her here. I figured after that..." she shrugs. "She'd be okay. She has all my charm and your determination. It's amazing she hasn't taken over the world yet."

* * *

When Alva arrives at the house in North East, it's eleven-year-old Reid who opens the door. "Kit!" He cries over his shoulder. "Kit's here!"

She growls, fingers cringing into claws as she chases after him into the house. He screeches as he runs: "She's goanna get me! SHE'S GONNA GET ME!"

She tackles him to the couch as her aunt and uncle come down the stairs with Sonia who runs down the stairs to join the pile on the couch. Alva scoops Sonia up to avoid Reid's kicking legs.

Alva extracts herself and hugs her aunt and uncle with Sonia perched on her hip. She grins at her aunt and Uncle. Or at least that's how she's always thought of them. "Everybody looks so fancy all dressed up." At seventeen, she knows that Capt. Burckhardt and Dr. Silverton are not actually related to her, at least by blood. But her earliest recollection is a giant stuffed fox that sits in her room, curtsey of "Uncle Nicky" from her fourth birthday. Though now, she's not entirely sure what she's going to do with it when she goes to New York.

"Thanks, Kit." Aunt Jules smiles. "Now, I left some cash in the kitchen for pizza and we rented a few movies." She turns to her children. "One. Just one. And then bed by ten." Sonia and Reed gasp at the incredibly late bedtime.

"They'll be bed by ten." Alva promises.

Her uncle hugs her. "There's ice cream hidden behind the frozen potatoes." He murmurs. "Don't tell your aunt!"

"Nick! We've gotta go!" Her aunt calls from the door.

"Call us, if you need anything. And be safe! And I love you!" He calls, meaning all of them.

Later, after the pizza had been delivered and eaten, Alva was attempting to put them to bed. Sonia brushed her teeth mechanically if a little sleepily while Alva chases Reid all through the house.

"Woge!" He shouts. "Please, Kit! Just once! Then, I'll go to bed!" He promises. If it's at all possible for his green eyes to get any bigger, they are.

Rolling her eyes, Kit does.

His eyes go wide and he squeals and takes off down stairs. Having no other choice, Alva follows after snarling like the monster she's pretending to be. He dashes down the stairs and through the living room; Sonia following after as fast as her five year old legs can carry her.

That's when something crashes through the living room windows. The kids both scream and instinctively, Alva yanks them to her. She shoves them behind her and tosses Reid her phone. She hears the dial tones for 911 as she faces the intruder.

She growls deep in her throat. Who in the hell thinks they hurt her baby Grimms and get away with it? Her blood sings in her veins, claws at the ready as the figure in the lithe figure in black stands. The hair stands up on the back of neck and a shiver works its way down her spine. She's never felt this much malice rolling off a person in her life. But there is no choice about the fight or flight response; it's all fight.

"Did he know he hired a Blutbad or was this just a happy accident?" The voice is strangely feminine but rough as if she hadn't spoken aloud in years. She pulls back the hood just a little to reveal a face that has been its share of hardship.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Alva clutches Sonia to her hip. "Their father is the police chief, you're never going to get away with this!"

Reid turns and shouts: "Grandma Kelly?" And tosses the phone to Alva. He comes to stand at her side, watching the stranger curiously

"What?" Alva grabs Sonia and sets her on her hip and woges back. "Reid, who is this?"

Reid looks up at her and then over at the woman in black. "Grandma Kelly? Why are you so mad at Kit?"

The woman steps closer and Kit grabs Reid back. Sonia buries her face in Kit's shoulder and starts to cry. "Kit? Reid, she's a Blutbad."

Reid stares her down. "She's our cousin, Kit." His voice is small but steady.

The woman glances over at Kit again. "Alva? Is that you?"

"How do you know my name?" Sonia grips Kit's neck harder. In turn, Kit grips the back of Reid's shirt.

Sirens start to whine in the distance and Sonia howls. The woman in black glances over her shoulder and then disappears out the open window.

* * *

Dinner had been too good to be true, Monroe reflected later on the drive. Rosalee put her hand over his. "She's okay. Wu's with her."

But all he could see was Kit at five running toward him from the bus. Kit at four, sick with bronchitis again. They sat together and watched cartoons until she fell asleep on his lap. Kit so tiny wrapped in her bright yellow blanket. "I know." He says automatically but he relives all of times her nightmares were so terrible she refused sleep so he sat up reading to her instead.

His own worst nightmare comes to life as he and Rose pull up behind Nick and Juliette and the house is swarming with cops and cherry red and brilliant blue lights. Neighbors are out on their front steps, concerned.

Rosalee and Juliette go in first, but Wu stops them at the front door. "Don't worry," he assures them. "Everyone is all right, I promise. No scratches, no cuts. Juliette is with the little kids upstairs."

"Even Alva?" Monroe has to keep himself from jumping on Wu.

Detective Wu nods. "She's fine. A little shaken up, but okay. Reid seems to think that the intruder was his Grandmother." He checks his notepad again. "A 'Grandma Kelly'? Ring any bells?"

Nick looks over at Monroe and sighs. "I had no clue she'd be in town. I would have reminded her."

Wu rolled his eyes, already anticipating the headache. "Your crazy not-dead mother again, Captain?"

"It's been a while since she's been in town. And she hasn't seen Kit in almost eight years."

"Even then she was terrified." Monroe runs a hand over his eyes. "She had nightmares for a week."

"Sounds like there's not much more for us to do but post a unit out front."

"She won't try to come back tonight," Nick insists.

"She may be your mother but this is my crime scene." Wu shoots back as he goes down the steps. "And you're getting a unit out front."

Inside, he finds Alva sitting on the couch, her inhaler clutched between her palms. Rose has her arms wrapped around her daughter. "It's all right, Kit." She murmurs just like when Kit was four. "Everything is okay." Rose looks over her shoulder at him and sighs, shaking her head.

Alva looks up; her face crumbles the moment she realizes it's him. "Daddy!" She leaps up and runs to him. He wraps his arms around his daughter, holding her close.

"Hey, Kit..." He has to fight hard to keep his voice steady. "It's okay. It's all right."

"Are the babies okay?" She wonders, nose clogged already. He can't help but smile at her nickname for them. "You always told me that we protect our own and-"

"You did good, Kit." He promises. "You did all the right things."

She lets go of a shuddering breath.

"You okay? Do you need your inhaler again?"

She shakes her head while Rose gets up and stands behind her. "Honey, can you drive?" Rose asks her. Alva just keeps shaking her head.

"It's okay, I'll drive the Bug. Besides, I think it's time she saw the trailer."

Rose wraps a protective arm around her daughter's waist. "Are you sure she's ready?"

"Ready for what?" Alva asks and wipes her hand across her nose. "What's going on?"

Rose stands on her tiptoes to kiss her temple. "I'll see you both at home."

"Dad, what is going on?"  
"Come on," he keeps an arm around her shoulder and guides her out of the house. "We're going to have a talk."

"Dad," she huffs out as she opens the passenger door to the bug. "Can't we just go home? I'm so tired..."

"Trust me, I don't want to do this either. But you gotta know, Kit."

On the drive over, he tells her the real story, or more or less fills in the holes of the stories she already knows. He watches her eyes grow wider and wider.

"So Uncle Nicky is a Weider Grimm?" Alva asks as they drive.

"In a sense."

"And his mother..."

"Isn't." He finishes for her. "She even scares me when she goes full on Grimm."

"So, why aren't I afraid of Uncle Nicky? Even if he is Weider?"

"He's never had to in front of you."

"Have you seen it?"

"Yep. It's terrifying."

She sits back as the streetlights pass over them. She stares straight forward, biting her lower lip like Rosalee does when she's going through her recipe books.

"You wanna say something, Kit?"

She looks over at him. "I got in to NYU."

"What?"

"I got the letter a few days ago and I've been waiting to tell you guys."

"Kit, that's fantastic! It really is."

"I know you wanted me to stay in Oregon but..."

He turns to look at his daughter. "It's your dream school, I know."

"Think I can handle it?" She wonders, a small smile playing across her face.

"No doubt."

The trailer is much the same as it always is, Alva drifts through the books mainly, like Rose did the first time, and comes to the weapons closet. She opens it and gasps. But she doesn't ask any follow up questions or clarifications. When she's done, they get back in the car and head home.

For the most part, Alva is fiercely independent. Always has been. On her first day of kindergarten, she ran to her classroom and didn't look back once. When she was ten she found a sleep away camp all by herself and begged to go. At part of him worried from the first time he saw her, that she'd always be different, unable to bridge the worlds she belonged to. He was terrified she'd fall off the map like he and Rose had at one point or another, that she'd taken a little too much after him.

In a few months, she'll be living on the opposite coast from them. She'll be looking out for herself; there won't be anyone to shout "Don't forget your keys/inhaler!", "No boys!" "Make smart choices!" when she leaves for the day. No one to kiss her on the forehead and remind her how much she is loved and cherished.

His daughter looks over at him and smiles Rose's smile. And he knows she's going to be all right.

**Fin**

* * *

And there, for the sloppy happy ending, is that.

So, first of all! THANK YOU ALL for your encouragement and support as I wound my way through this fandom! I couldn't have done it without you!

Second of all, I am so sorry about the delay. First I was on a mini vacation and then I saw Pacific Rim...and my whole life both ended and began. If you haven't seen it, you should. IT"S BADASS. And I've been playing around with a fic for that for a while. Which I may or may not post here.

Thirdly, I love you guys! You're awesome. If you ever want to chat, please feel free to PM me. I may not be posting Grimm Fanfic for a while but know I'm always reading emails and messages!

Peace out and Happy Reading

T.R.P.D


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